


What Doesn't Kill You

by WallofIllusion



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Discipline, F/M, Humiliation, Oral Sex, PWP, Sadism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-02-03 08:17:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1737701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WallofIllusion/pseuds/WallofIllusion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a fit of madness, Stein destroyed some of Medusa's tools. It's only natural that he should be punished for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Doesn't Kill You

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a happy fic. This is not a punishment that Stein enjoys.

He slammed into the wall, left shoulder first, and as the sparks cleared from his vision he felt bands wrap around his wrists and ankles, holding him there. The witch approached, fury in her face—why was she angry? And then he remembered the empty test tubes, turned to confetti at his feet to celebrate—he couldn’t remember what. It hadn’t mattered what. There was so much to celebrate after all. The pulsing of blood in his head, the way the strands of reality writhed in his hands when he was mad like this.

But Medusa didn’t share his enthusiasm. Her hand clenched around his throat, closing his airways immediately. He yanked his wrists against the bonds and imagined throwing the confetti around the two of them, their own little party.

“Do you think you’re _funny_?” she asked, and Stein realized that the corners of his mouth were pulled up into a grin. His head rolled back on his neck and he tried to remember how to stop smiling but he was too far gone, the edges of his vision were beginning to prickle red and black—

His mouth formed her name soundlessly, and to his surprise she released his throat. He sagged and gasped for air. But too soon the gasps turned again to laughter. Now Medusa caught his jaw and before he could think to stop laughing she had emptied half a vial of clear liquid into his mouth.

“Swallow,” she said, but he spat the liquid back at her and clamped his mouth shut. Peals of laughter stayed trapped in his throat as anger darkened Medusa’s face.

“Open your mouth.”

“Mm-mm, mm-mm.” He shook his head, eyes wide open and rolling. The world swished back and forth dizzyingly. Before it could settle, Medusa’s palm collided with his stomach. Laughter burst out of him like air from a popped balloon and Medusa poured the rest of the liquid down his throat. Vectors wrapped around his mouth to keep it in. Muffled screams of laughter turned to hacking coughs and by the time they’d stopped the liquid had disappeared down his throat. No further laughter came, even when Medusa retracted the vectors from his mouth; she was watching him with smug patience.

“What was that?” asked something with his voice. Fear sank into him, crawling across his shoulders. “…Poison…”

“It won’t kill you,” she said with a smile. “I’d need something more hands-on for that.”

“Then what—” He choked suddenly. Something was still crawling over his shoulders and now it was moving down his arms and his spine, something hot and stinging and static in his head and a constriction on his lungs and for a moment everything went red and fire spread through his veins. He felt like he was floating and drowning all at once. And then he was looking up through a haze of speckles at Medusa, up because she had released the vectors and he had collapsed. She was staring down at him with a smile glittering on her face, infuriatingly confident.

He grimaced. “I could escape,” he rasped up at her.

She snorted. “Not a chance.”

He tried to get to his feet, but his legs and arms were like jelly and he only scraped his face on the concrete floor. The pain was in his legs, his groin, his stomach. It was tearing his spine apart. He doubled up, arms across his abdomen, but it did no good. Behind him and before him and around him he could feel the Kishin lurking, its dull rotted teeth ready to sink into his mind and he would let them, god, he would let them if it meant he would forget this pain—

“Stay with me, Stein,” the witch said coldly, pushing him onto his back with her foot. Then the vectors had him again, pinning him to the floor like an insect, and over the roar in his head he could hear himself pleading _please make it stop, please Medusa, please let me go_ He bucked and writhed against the vectors binding him to awareness, eyes squeezed shut—and then suddenly something that wasn’t quite pain shivered through his body.

“Hmm,” he heard Medusa say. He craned his neck up to see her standing over him, a look of skepticism and intrigue on her face and her foot resting against the bulge in his pants. She bore down and he groaned, bucking against the stimulation as the inside of his head went white. He heard a soft laugh.

“Weren’t you supposed to be a _sadist_?”

He moaned as she dropped to her knees and began massaging him roughly. “No…”

“No? You’ve always been a masochist at heart?” She wrestled his pants down over his hips, exposing him to the open air, and he gasped. “Or, ‘No, don’t learn this about me; no, you’re not allowed to use this knowledge against me’?”

The pain was still burning through him but now a need was joining it, and a stomach-turning shame strong enough to make him vomit or—she touched his bare skin and a strangled cry burst out of him. Vomiting wasn’t what he needed to do.

For a moment, the vectors disappeared; then she propped his back roughly against the wall and they reappeared to hold him in place. She lowered her mouth to his cock even as he kept moaning _no no no no no_ and tried to writhe away. But as her lips touched his skin, her tongue sliding down his length, he choked on his protests. It was the voice of his sanity that gave in first, shrugging out half-logic like _it’s better than the pain alone_ and _she’ll stop once she thinks I’ve been humiliated enough_ before vanishing and leaving Stein’s worse half to deal with reality.

Did the drug still have him? Fire filled his veins from his fingertips to his toes, all up his spine and into his scalp, but his back was arching and there were no protests carried on his ragged breath anymore. He couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t think at all. And yet she did not let him escape into oblivion, digging her nails into his legs at random intervals to keep him alert as she sucked him off. Her teeth scraped the head of his cock and he screamed but when he begged _please, please_ it didn’t mean what it had before. If she left him like this now the pain alone would consume him. He craved her, _needed her_ —

He came into her mouth, hard, barely aware that her nails were breaking skin on his legs until she loosened her grip and left an empty ache in their stead. The pain filling his body turned to a heavy, radiating liquid that weighed him down. Through a blur of hot tears, he stared at nothing in particular.

Medusa grasped his hair and looked into his eyes and then spat his come onto his face. She wiped her mouth on her forearm without breaking her stare. Her face was hard to read—eddies of pain kept breaking his concentration—but he thought he saw victory there, and disgust. She despised him. She owned him.

He closed his eyes and tried weakly to move his arms. He was still bound, and he could feel the edges of the vectors sting where he’d cut himself against them. “How much longer?” he croaked.

“You have no right to know that.”

No. Of course he didn’t. His entire body seized as if with cramps, and he tried to curl up but only succeeded in driving the vectors further into his already-raw skin. He choked. “Mercy…”

She laughed, a cruel sound. “You destroy my property and expect more ‘mercy’ than to escape with your life? What a spoiled child you are.” She released his hair. When she stroked his chest, a brief respite from the pain followed her touch, only to evaporate seconds later. “I need you to understand what you may and may not do, Stein, and with your wreck of a mind there is no way to guarantee that but to burn the understanding into you. Remember this, and my ‘mercy’ will mean that it doesn’t need to happen again.”

“I’ll remember. I’ll remember,” he pleaded.

She gave another laugh, but this one was softer and almost rueful. “You won’t.” With a hiss, the vectors disappeared at last, and she stood and turned away. “Once you’re able to walk, you’re welcome to shower and go lick your wounds. Just stay out of my lab and out of my sight for the rest of the day. I’ve had enough of you.”


End file.
